Monsieur Brightside
by IChooseTheScorpion
Summary: Not EOW in a romantic sense...just enough for our lovely O.G. to have an equally lovely son, who falls in love with possibly the most obvious of women. But Daddy doesn’t like the thought of his flesh and blood wooing what should have been his child.
1. All of This

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Mr. Brightside

by

**IChooseTheScorpion**

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**Disclaimer:** Well, I _know_ Gaston Leroux isn't reading this, unless they have internet access where dead peoples' souls go (if there are such things as souls, and assuming religion isn't just a manifestation of the human mind created to deal with the thought of death and non-existence...), and I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that Susan Kay isn't a huge phan/fanfiction reader. I know for a fact that Andrew Lloyd Webber is in the process of bitching out Joel Schumacher for totally jacking up his awesome musical and making it into a realtively good movie that at times had bad singing and was a cheesefest. Feel free to leave me a lovely review about how you disagree with that opinion: it'll make the numbers go up. Yeah, I totally on Phantom of the Opera! Erik is mine for having wild, orgasmic sex with every night of the fcuking week.

* * *

**Summary:** Not EOW in a romantic sense at all...just enough for our lovely O.G. to have an equally lovely son, who falls in love with possibly the most obvious of women. But daddy doesn't like the thought of his flesh and blood in a relationship with what should have been his own progeny. SK, GL, and ALW combined.

* * *

**A/N:** Hi! I have a buncha pen names, including Padfootz-luvr, Sugarcult Babe, and CapnJacksBonnieLass, but this is my first story under this particular one. This phic is based of of the plot of ALW, with that Erik's half-mask, but underneath it he is all SK and GL-ish. Nadir is in it, and the whole SK scenario is totally into play, just not anything after Erik is all in his lil Opera home underground and falls in love with Miss Cheating BitchSlutWhoreTramp Daaé (jk, I kinda like her...sometimes...) Monsieur Le Fantome has fallen into this sort of...twisted...whore-ridden...sex-fest of drugsand stuff, but then he leaves France for a little bit. He returns...but his fav courtesan has had his kid. Read to find out more and I swear I will share Erik on Mondays and Wednesdays when I have play practice.

* * *

**Ooh, Ooh, VISIT MY SITE! (Self-promotion rox my sox) It's in my bio/profile-y thing!

* * *

**

_With all of this I know now  
Everything inside of my head  
It all just goes to show how  
Nothing I know changes me at all  
Again I wait for this to change instead  
To tear the world in twoAnother night with her  
But I'm always wanting you _

Use me Holly come on and use me  
We know where we go  
Use me Holly come on and use me  
We go where we know

With all of this I feel now  
Everything inside of my heart  
It all just seems to be how  
Nothing I feel pulls at me at all  
Again I wait for this to pull apart  
To break my time in two  
Another night with her  
But I'm always wanting you

Use me Holly come on and use me  
We know where we go  
Use me Holly come on and use me  
We go where we know

She's all I need  
She's all I dream  
She's all I'm always wanting  
She's all I need  
She's all I dream  
She's all:  
I'm always wanting you  
Yeah I'm always wanting you  
I'm always wanting you  
"All of This" by Blink-182

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**Chapter One: **

**All of This

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**

He stared down at the woman below him. She was staring back at him with her large, innocent blue eyes. Yes, even now, as they performed the most sacred act of love outside of holy matrimony, she looked innocent. He had taken that innocence. _But she was never truly innocent, _he reminded himself. _At least, not since I've known her...not since her father died..._

Her innocence was a façade, a visage, a_ masque_, much like his own, that hid what lay beneath. And beneath her own mask lay a devious, cunning feline...and to her cat he was the mouse. Always being toyed with, confused. She would pretend to be kind and innocent, to love him as he loved her, then she would scratch out and delight in the way he was tormented by the thoughts of her and another man.

_The Vicomte._ Just the thought sent Erik's mind reeling, and he felt anger, rage, jealousy, and a thousand other dangerous emotions flow through his veins, even now, as he was loving his beloved both physically and emotionally.

The Vicomte de Chagny...the epitome of elegance, gallantry, nobility, chivalry, and, worst of all, handsomeness.

The man's teeth gritted and he tried to purge his brain of all thoughts of his rival, the exact image of what he would never, could never be. She had chosen _him_, the Vicomte, after all Erik had done to ensure her happiness, talent, success, and fulfill every want and need she could possibly have, she chose the man who she hadn't seen since she was a small child.

_Why...why?_ His mind screamed at him, and he didn't notice whem the woman below him cried out in pain. His blood was surging through his veins with such an insane intensity now, his mind was elsewhere...

Then suddenly his thoughts were suspended, and everything came to a stop as he shook from the sensation and his mind seemed, for one glorious, unfathomable moment, completely blank, without thoughts of his horrid past, his abysmal present, or his inevitably bleak future.

Christine was below him, his Christine, and she was willingly allowing him to love her as he had always longer to love her.

He didn't even realize he had said her name until he collapsed upon this woman below him and lay, breathing heavily, all of his skin, even the malformed flesh under his mask, was slick with sweat.

He lay there, basking in the afterglow of the miracle that had just occurred, until the woman he had so unceremoniously fell onto moved from under his long, lithe body to roll over onto the side of the bed.

Christine's large, cerulean eyes vanished, leaving in their place a pair of almond-  
shaped, brown ones. The lush chestnut curls and waves that fell down her back shortened, turned a coppery auburn, and the creamy-white skin became paler and pallid.

Nevertheless, this woman that was now pulling back on her dressings was very beautiful, with her nearly flawless features and voluptuous body. However, she was not his Christine, and that was all that mattered to the infamous Opera Ghost.

"Who's Christine?" she murmured softly and cautiously.

Erik's head snapped to her. She had never before questioned the fact that he would say Christine's name.

"It is not your business to ask questions," Erik replied coldly, his beautiful voice, as always, startling her slightly.

"It is not my business to sleep with men for money either, but there you go," she snapped.

It was true, it wasn't her business. She was, in fact, a lowly factory girl that needed some food for her brothers and sisters. Nonetheless, she _was_ lying with a man she had met only two weeks ago in exchange for a payment, which was basically the equivalent of a common whore.

Erik bit back the hurtful comment on the tip of his tongue all the same, recalling how he had hurt her just a few minutes ago.

"Did I hurt you?" His question seemed nonchalant, as though he hardly cared, which, as a matter of fact, he didn't, but it was a big step for him.

"Not much, mostly my dignity, as always," she sighed sadly, strapping the old boots she wore back into place.

"Have you told your family yet, Aurore?"

"'Yet'?" she echoed, snorting. "I am not going to tell them at all, Monsieur! This will end soon. I just need enough money to stabilize, or at least sustain, us until Marq (the eldest of my younger siblings, you know) can find proper work..."

"Of course," Erik agreed, though he knew well enough that her brother Marq, who was only 19 (3 years younger than Aurore herself) was in dealings with dishonest men that were often caught up in dangerous, even deadly games and bargains.

"Can you pay me up front, Monsieur?" Aurore's timid voice invaded his thoughts like ink bleeding through parchment.

"I didn't bring the money with me," Erik lied. He pitied this unfortunate soul, though he knew he was in no place to be pitying anyone, let alone a beautiful, young girl. He brought only the usual 50 francs, which he knew was not nearly enough to feed, let alone clothe, the family of nine.

The youngest child in the family, he had discovered after following his favorite mistress home one night, was only three years old. The father of all the children had been killed by a carriage before the three-year-old was born; furthermore, the mother had died giving birth to that same infant, leaving the eight younger children in the care of the oldest child, Aurore, broken, spent, and moneyless.

Aurore startled Erik out of his revere as she began speaking again.

"I really need that money, Monsieur...my youngest siblings are near death from starvation and the cold. Please, if you can bring it to me as soon as possible..." she trailed off, not meaning to sound so pleading, or desperate. Then again, she was having sex with a mysterious masked man for money. Oh, god...she was no better than the courtesans at the Moulin Rouge!

"I'll bring you the money by midnight," he promised. Not that the Phantom's promises should be truly trusted. He didn't know why he was making promises to this girl; he barely knew her. Sure, he knew _about_ her, but he didn't know _her_ for a person. Of course, when had he ever really _know_ a person for who they were, except for perhaps Nadir...even Christine, whom he thought he had known, had betrayed him in the end.

"Alright..._Merci, _Monsieur," she said softly, before standing up to take her leave of the old hotel room.

Erik sighed before leaving the hotel to return to his "home" to retrieve the money. He took the pocket watch from his pocket as he hid in the shadows of a building. It read 11 o'clock. He had an hour. That was plenty of time, especially with all the shortcuts the Opera Ghost knew.

He quickly obtained the money and an envelope to store it in, and began to make his way towards Aurore's tiny, dilapidated home in the slums.

Just as he was about to leave a dark alley for the open, moonlit street, an elaborately decorated carriage rolled by leisurely, the curtains parted so that it was easy to see that laughing, happy young couple inside.

Erik froze as he recognized the bell-like tinkling of _her_ laughter. He caught sight of her creamy skin, flawless face, and large azure eyes that, at the moment, were nearly closed as she laughed her beautiful, musical laugh...

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**A/N:** Hope you like it. If you didn't: deal with it. I'm not big on whiny bitchin about 'This story sucks my dad's friend's third cousin's (twice removed) dogwalker's uncle's balls..' this or 'OMFG I can't believe you were so stupid...' that, but it racks up my review tally, so I'm all for it.

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**Reviews rock my green and black socks. Flames rock too, I'm a pyro.**


	2. Mr Brightside

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* * *

**

Monsieur Brightside  
by  
IChooseTheScorpion

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Well, I know Gaston Leroux isn't reading this, unless they have internet access where dead peoples' souls go (if there are such things as souls, and assuming religion isn't just a manifestation of the human mind created to deal with the thought of death and non-existence...), and I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that Susan Kay isn't a huge phan/fanfiction reader. I know for a fact that Andrew Lloyd Webber is in the process of bitching out Joel Schumacher for totally jacking up his awesome musical and making it into a realtively good movie that at times had bad singing and was a cheesefest. Feel free to leave me a lovely review about how you disagree with that opinion: it'll make the numbers go up. Yeah, I totally on Phantom of the Opera! Erik is mine for having wild, orgasmic sex with every night of the fcuking week.

* * *

**Summary:** Not EOW in a romantic sense at all...just enough for our lovely O.G. to have an equally lovely son, who falls in love with possibly the most obvious of women. But daddy doesn't like the thought of his flesh and blood in a relationship with what should have been his own progeny. SK, GL, and ALW combined.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry I haven't updated in like forever. My computer is on crack and stuff...anyways, I had to email this chapter to myself and then retrieve it at school, so I could upload it there. I'll try and Update ASAP, the next chapter's already written, so it'll probably be up tomorrow. Thanks for all the review, you guys!

* * *

**A/N2:** Hi! I have a buncha pen names, including Padfootz-luvr, Sugarcult Babe, and CapnJacksBonnieLass, but this is my first story under this particular one. This phic is based of of the plot of ALW, with that Erik's half-mask, but underneath it he is all SK and GL-ish. Nadir is in it, and the whole SK scenario is totally into play, just not anything after Erik is all in his lil Opera home underground and falls in love with Miss Cheating BitchSlutWhoreTramp Daaé (jk, I kinda like her...sometimes...). Monsieur Le Fantome has fallen into this sort of...twisted...whore-ridden...sex-fest of drugs and stuff, but then he leaves France for a little bit. He returns...but his fav courtesan has had his kid. Read to find out more and I swear I will share Erik on Mondays and Wednesdays when I have play practice.

* * *

**Ooh, Ooh, VISIT MY SITE! (Self-promotion rox my sox) It's in my bio/profile-y thing!

* * *

**

_I'm coming out of my cage  
And I've been doing just fine  
Gotta gotta be down  
Because I want it all  
It started out with a kissHow did it end up like this  
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss _

_Now I'm falling asleep  
And she's calling a cab  
While he's having a smoke  
And she's taking a drag  
Now they're going to bed  
And my stomach is sick  
And it's all in my head _

_But she's touching his-chest  
Now, he takes off her dress  
Now, let me go  
I just can't look its killing me  
And taking control _

_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea  
Swimming through sick lullabies  
Choking on your alibis  
But it's just the price I pay  
Destiny is calling me  
Open up my eager eyes  
'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside _

_I'm coming out of my cage  
And I've been doing just fine  
Gotta gotta be down  
Because I want it all  
It started out with a kiss  
How did it end up like this  
(It was only a kiss) it was only a kiss _

_Now I'm falling asleep  
And she's calling a cab  
While he's having a smoke  
And she's taking a drag  
Now they're going to bed  
And my stomach is sick  
And it's all in my head _

_But she's touching his-chest  
Now, he takes off her dress  
Now, let me goI just can't look its killing me  
And taking control _

_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea  
Swimming through sick lullabies  
Choking on your alibi  
But it's just the price I pay  
Destiny is calling me  
Open up my eager eyes  
'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside _

_I never...  
I never...  
I never... _

**"Mr. Brightside"** by The Killers

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**Chapter Two:  
Mr. Brightside

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**

There, spoiling the would-be unblemished picture, was him. Sitting beside her, gazing at her, admiring her beauty, no doubt, while managing to look so â₋?handsome' and â₋?dashing' all the same.  
Jealousy poured through Erik's blood like oil through water, tainting it, contaminating it. And, as he stared at the De Chagny crest embellished on the door of the carriage, he remembered: it was not to him that Christine's heart belonged.

It was not him that she would lay with that night...it was not in his arms she would wake the next morning, comfortable and content, warm and secure...it was not his own home, under the Opera House, in the cellars, no less, where she would sleep and live, happily and willingly, with him in Holy Matrimony until the day either died...it was not to his own hideous malformation that he dared call a face that she would wake up to every morning...it was the Viscount's handsome, young face that she would wake up to, in his arms, after a night of love-making, in their large, luxurious house on their estate, where they lived joyously together, jubilantly married.

Erik's stomach grew sick, and he fought to close his eyes so that he would not be sick, but he couldn't shut out the image of her lovely, smiling face, knowing he wouldn't see that smile ever directed at him...

He finally closed his eyes tightly as the carriage drove away, off into the starry, clear night. But it was as though someone had burned her face into his eyelids, because there she was, smiling with her precious Vicomte, in love with him, willing to sleep in the same bed with him and marry him out of love...

Erik struggled to get his now ragged breathing under control as his mind whirled with questions and thoughts, images, and memories of his beloved and her angelic voice.

Why was she here? That was the main question rolling through his complex mind...his mind that was constantly in turmoil. The Viscount and his new wife were said to have gone to live outside of Paris, far from the scandalous affair with the Phantom of the Opera...

Erik forced his breathing to calm, and finally took a step into the street, checking his watch. Nearly a quarter to midnight now. Erik meandered slowly down the street, the opposite way that the carriage was going...he didn't care if he got the money to Aurore on time or not now, didn't care if he was seen.

Suddenly, a fascinating, terrifying mixture of bloodlust and carnal lust seeped through his body, through the very essence of his being...and he sped up his pace, taking every shortcut he knew to the ramshackle house where his courtesan lived with her huge family. Erik hoped Aurore could spare just an hour or two of her time to accompany him to the nearest motel or inn for a few hundred more francs.

No...Erik very suddenly wished to bring her down into his home, and pretend, just for one last night, that it was Christine he was with, and Christine had chosen him, willingly, out of love, and she would allow him to take her, in his domain...Just for one last night.

As he nearly reached the shack in which Aurore and her eight siblings lived, Erik decided, after this one last time, he would be done with his mistresses (at least the ones in Paris) and leave the country...to get away from her...and that boy...

Erik reached the door and pounded on it. Aurore opened the door cautiously, then wider as she stared at him, surprised. Usually, if he left them money, he slipped it under the door and left without a word.  
"Monsieur," she said, keeping her voice hushed. Erik assumed that most of the children were asleep.

Good...perhaps she could leave one of the eldest in charge for just a bit...

"What are you doing here-"

Before she could finish the question, Erik grabbed her hips and pulled her to him, pressing his mouth to hers hard and passionately, needily. He roughly opened her mouth and explored it with his tongue, and one of his hands made its way to the front of her dress as he ran it across her breasts.

He pulled back, his eyes darkened with lust, and began to pull her away from the "house", but she pulled back. He glared at her, angry at her defiance, but she held her footing.

"My brothers and sisters..." she muttered, glancing back into the house.

"Get the oldest to watch them for a couple hours," he growled, frustrated at her tendency to put her love and care for her family before his needs and money.

"Oh, but, Monsieur-"

"I'll pay you double, plus what I owe, up front," he responded, showing her the wad of bills in his hand.

Her eyes widened and she nodded, briefly returning into the dark, cold beaten-up dwelling. He heard a few words exchanged, then she stepped. back out into the night...his kingdom.

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**REVIEWS ROCK, BUT FLAMES MAKE MY DAY!

* * *

**


	3. Take It Away

**

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**

Mr. Brightside  
**by  
IChooseTheScorpion

* * *

**

**Disclaimer:** Well, I know Gaston Leroux isn't reading this, unless they have internet access where dead peoples' souls go (if there are such things as souls, and assuming religion isn't just a manifestation of the human mind created to deal with the thought of death and non-existence...), and I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that Susan Kay isn't a huge phan/fanfiction reader. I know for a fact that Andrew Lloyd Webber is in the process of bitching out Joel Schumacher for totally jacking up his awesome musical and making it into a realtively good movie that at times had bad singing and was a cheesefest. Feel free to leave me a lovely review about how you disagree with that opinion: it'll make the numbers go up. Yeah, I totally on Phantom of the Opera! Erik is mine for having wild, orgasmic sex with every night of the fcuking week.

* * *

**Summary:** Not EOW in a romantic sense at all...just enough for our lovely O.G. to have an equally lovely son, who falls in love with possibly the most obvious of women. But daddy doesn't like the thought of his flesh and blood in a relationship with what should have been his own progeny. SK, GL, and ALW combined.

* * *

**A/N:** Hi! I have a buncha pen names, including Padfootz-luvr, Sugarcult Babe, and CapnJacksBonnieLass, but this is my first story under this particular one. This phic is based of of the plot of ALW, with that Erik's half-mask, but underneath it he is all SK and GL-ish. Nadir is in it, and the whole SK scenario is totally into play, just not anything after Erik is all in his lil Opera home underground and falls in love with Miss Cheating BitchSlutWhoreTramp DaaÃ© (jk, I kinda like her...sometimes...). Monsieur Le Fantome has fallen into this sort of...twisted...whore-ridden...sex-fest of drugs and stuff, but then he leaves France for a little bit. He returns...but his fav courtesan has had his kid. Read to find out more and I swear I will share Erik on Mondays and Wednesdays when I have play practice.

* * *

**THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!

* * *

**

**Ooh, Ooh, VISIT MY SITE! (Self-promotion rox my sox) It's in my bio/profile-y thing!

* * *

**

_Get down  
Get down _

_I'm lying to myself  
And this dagger's my excuse  
I'm appalled  
I should have paid up  
And I left an hour late  
I was laid up  
_

_I must abuse myself  
I'm against all that I've made up  
Set in stone the sun will come  
And I hate light  
You know I hate light  
Don't make it look so pretty burning _

_Burn the sun  
Burn the light  
Take take take take take take it away  
Take my hand  
Take my life  
Take take take take take take it away _

_I must have caught something  
In the heat of all these dances  
I'm a worm with no more chances  
And I've lost all doubt  
In a chemical romance _

_I guess I'm bitching  
At the thoughts of tarnished hope  
It's kind of funny  
The only feeling  
I'm not in love  
You know it's not love  
Don't make it look so pretty burning _

_Burn the sun  
Burn the light  
Take take take take take take it away  
Take my hand  
Take my life  
Take take take take take take it away _

_Burn the sun  
Burn the light  
Take take take take take take it away  
Take my hand  
Take my life  
Take take take take take take it away _

_Brothers and sisters  
I'm right here with you  
Cause everyone's got oneI started to kill me  
I'm so apathetic in my resentment  
Living, loving, knowing this... in my resentment _

_Take my hand x8  
Take my life  
Take my heart take my mind  
Take my life take my life _

_Burn the sun burn the lights  
Take take take take take take it away  
Take my hand take my life  
Take take take take take take it away  
Burn the signs burn the lights  
Take take take take take take it away  
Take my hand take my life  
Take my life  
Take my life  
Take my life_

**"Take My Life"** by The Used

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**Chapter Three:  
Take It Away

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**

Aurore opened her eyes, looking around the familiar room, dazed. What had happened?

She remembered feeding the younger children a tiny bit of stale bread: the last of the food. Marq had come in, but without any of the food and money he was constantly promising to bring. They fought, he stormed out, and then she had tucked most of her siblings into bed (many of them shared a singular sofa or mat of straw wrapped in a moth-eaten cloth or blanket.).

Then a knock at the door, and her anonymous "employer", and him taking her to some vaguely familiar building...but Aurore was unable to see what it was in the dark. Not to mention that this yet unnamed man was fiercely bruising her lips with his own, occasionally moaning "Christine" into her mouth, making it absolutely impossible to tell where they were or where they were going.

Then he had begun to take her underground. How? Aurore did not know. She was disoriented at the time; all she knew was that there was a sudden absence of all light and it became very cold. Of course she had pulled back, suddenly very claustrophobic and aware of the walls and ceiling pressing heavily in on them.  
Aurore closed her eyes, suddenly the memory of the night coming back to her in a rush of sound and feeling...

**_FLASHBACK_ **

But then, after she felt the claustrophobia enclose around her at the though of being pressed in on, she heard it: out of the darkness, came the most beautiful, entrancing, unearthly sound she had ever heard in her life, or even dreams. The pure, hypnotic notes swelled all around her and through her, filling her heart with desire and luring her towards the sound without resistance. Then they stopped. And so did Aurore. She could hear the man in front of her, breathing heavily, and realized it was from he that the music was emanating.

How could such a beautiful song, such a beautiful, unearthly sound (it didn't even seem like a sound, really...more like an absolute feeling of ecstasy and promise of more) flow from a human's lungs and throat? How was it possible that this man, this controlling, temperamental, obsessive man that seemed to be constantly teetering along the brink of insanity and explosive anger, how was it possible for such a sound, such feeling and emotion (both of which he seemed to completely lack except for when he would say Christine's name, or in one of his fits of evanescent wrath) to be produced from such a man, such a complete-

"Monster..."

"What did you say" his beautiful voice hissed.

Aurore froze, not realizing she had muttered the word that was whirring through her brain out loud.

"N-nothing, Monsieur" she stammered.

"Liar" he growled. "You said 'monster'..." And then, unexpectedly, he laughed. But it was like no laugh she had ever heard before: it carried the tune of a demon, a terrible contrast to the angelic sound he had been exhibiting mere seconds before. It carried no real humor, just an ironic sense of disbelief and anger, and a tiny bit of underlying sadness...maybe even disappointment.

Abruptly, he slammed her against the hard, stone wall. It was damp and rough, but Aurore was so frightened that she didn't notice. This man, this said monster, was now proving worthy of such a term as he pulled Aurore's arms up with grueling intensity and strength.

Aurore heard her own whimper of pain and fright, as though from very far away, as is she was a third person looking and watching the scene unfold. Closing her chocolate-colored eyes tightly, the young woman envisioned what the pair of them must look like: an almost unbelievably tall, lithe man with catlike grace and movements crushing a much smaller, wisp of a lady against a stone wall in a moist, pitch-black corridor. Moreover, the man was wearing an impeccable, fine suit, very much contrasting the ratty, threadbare dress that the woman was wearing. Not to mention the tiny fact that the man was wearing a mask. And then, almost smiling to herself, Aurore realized that an onlooker wouldn't be able to see this unorthodox scene in such darkness.

"You would not believe how many times I have been called that in my life, my dear" the flawless, inhuman voice stated in her ear.

Aurore's eyes snapped open, only to be met with blackness once more. Somehow, when she had closed her eyes, it seemed less dark. Quite abruptly, Aurore felt a sudden surge of confidence and defiance run through her blood. "Well, you must have done something quite awful to deserve being called such an abuse."

"I have done nothing to you" he reminded her. "And I did nothing in any of the other incidences."  
"'Nothing'" Aurore reverberated, her eyebrows raising. She had the impression that he could see her, even though it was just blackness in the seemingly narrow tunnel as far as her own unaccustomed eyes could see.

There was a pause. Then"Most of the time, I had done nothing to deserve such a _term of endearment_" he spoke the last words with such bitter sarcasm, it was almost sickening. "One is not always judged by their personality."

"Pity, that" Aurore remarked unconsciously, her own voice dripping with verbal irony. She hesitated, becoming aware only afterwards of what she had said.

To her absolute shock, he laughed again. This time, however, the laugh was relatively genuine, and it held the angelic notes and song that the voice carried.

Before Aurore could react, Erik pulled her from the wall and squeezed the young woman's thin but supple body to his own deft one. Out of his mouth came that beautiful sound again, and Aurore felt herself going deeper into the tunnel with him...below some huge building in Paris, not knowing or caring whether she saw the light of day ever again.

**END OF FLASHBACK...AAAAAND (WAIT FOR IT!) END OF CHAPTER!

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**

**REVIEWS ROCK, BUT FLAMES MAKE MY DAY!

* * *

**


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